


Next Sunday

by Makira820



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Biting, Choking, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, Loving Marriage, Lube, Nipple Play, Post-Canon, Power Dynamics, Service Kink, Spanking, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makira820/pseuds/Makira820
Summary: After being together for nearly 10 years, Makoto and Akira have a pretty good understanding of what the other likes.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Niijima Makoto, Kurusu Akira/Niijima Makoto, Niijima Makoto/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Next Sunday

"You're a bit too long. We might need to cut it off soon."

Akira rolled to his side and looked at his wife, a look of confusion on his face. "...Pardon?" 

"Your hair, it's really quite long," Makoto said, a knowing smirk on her face as she twirled his hair around her fingertips. "Why? What'd you think I was referring to?"

Akira lifted the covers they laid beneath, as if not quite sure if they really just had sex. Shared nakedness, check. Smell of mutual climax, check. Conclusion? Makoto just made a funny. Oh, how the scales had tipped over the years. Except right now she was the only one laughing in their bedroom. Hard to feel tickled when your dick is on the metaphorical chopping block.

"Yeah, I mean, I _am_ a growing boy. Lots of hair at this point of very late stage puberty," he joked.

"Really though, how long has it been since you had it cut?" she asked.

"...Tennnnn? No—eleven. Eleven months."

" _Eleven months?!_ Honey…you _really_ need a haircut," she said.

"Why? Do you not like it?" he asked.

"No, no, it's just…" she trailed off.

"Just...?"

Makoto stuck her hand behind his head, running her fingers through his hair until…

_Yank!_

"Oww!" he winced as she tried to push further.

"Sorry," Makoto said. "But don't you see? I can't do that anymore. Your hair gets tangled by the time we're done having sex. Remember when we were young and we'd finish with either me rubbing your head or you giving me a foot rub?"

"Does my _vintage_ 27-year-old wife desire a foot rub?"

The consequential smack to his bare ass could be heard even from beneath their extra thick duvet. He pretended not to feel it, which of course meant she had to do it again with much more force. Yeah, that didn't exactly get the intent across. Instead it only flipped the switch for both of them. Their eyes locked, her hand not once releasing his firm cheek as he repositioned himself between her welcoming legs. It was time for round two.

He leaned down and kissed her neck, trailing upwards until he reached her ear. 

"...Why don't you cut it for me?" his hot breath washed over her. With parted lips he lightly nibbled on her earlobe.

"M-Me…? I don't think I'm qualified to...oh... _ohhhh my_ …Sunday? I have the day off."

They both groaned as he thrust his hips forward.

"Sunday it is, then…"

* * *

_The following Sunday..._

Akira sat alone in the living room for what seemed like ages. The sun was already setting outside and yet here he was, a full head of floof still atop his noggin. They weren't running late or anything, Makoto just insisted that they did this in the evening. Probably due to the amount of prep work she was putting into this.

"Can I help?" he asked her once as she walked by the sofa.

"Nope," was her plain and simple answer. "And no peeking either, mister."

Well, alright then. She was certainly taking this much more seriously than he thought she would. From what he could gather from the clattering sounds in the bathroom, there was definitely some sort of assembly taking place. He chuckled to himself. A part of him was actually proud of that. The uptight girl he started dating ten years ago probably would have just read a lengthy book on hair cutting techniques and get to snipping. But the best friend he shared his life with today was putting an abundance of flair into this little procedure. How _sexy_ of her...

"Alright! You can come in now!" Makoto's voice beckoned from down the hall moments later.

By now he was expecting to find a robot standing in their bathroom, just waiting to cut his hair at the behest of it's master.

Well, he was half right.

Instead standing in the middle of the bathroom was his wife, Queen Beep Boop herself. Not surprising at all until his eyes traveled downward at her attire. Makoto was wearing a white blouse with a _very_ deep v-neck. There was no bra to be seen, nor sleeves for that matter, which served to accentuate her modest biceps. Below that, a pair of tight-fitting, dark blue capris that he didn't recall her owning. But the view in the mirror behind her? Oh mama… Ten years together and that ass still would NOT quit.

"You like what you see?" she asked rhetorically, a confident grin on her face.

He _loved_ what he saw. He wasn't quite sure why she was sporting the braless hair stylist look, but he didn't care enough to question why. All he knew was that on her, the most gorgeous woman in the world, it was an unfathomably sexy look. That was enough for him.

But the eye candy distracted him from the elephant in the room. A large, leather chair, complete with head and foot rests, sat up against the bathroom sink. It actually _looked_ like a professional barber's chair that you'd find in any commercial hair salon.

"Where did you…?"

"Haru," Makoto answered before he could finish the question.

Ah, the easiest explanation that required no further details. How convenient of their one and only rich friend. Thanks, Haru.

He took a seat where he was promptly spun around to face the mirror while his wife sifted through his hair.

"So how much are you planning on getting cut off?" Makoto asked, as if she didn't have the final say.

"Three centimeters?" he suggested.

She shook her head.

"Six?"

She shook her head again.

"You know what? Let's reset it all. Just shave me bald, I'm sure my wife would love that."

"How about we do twelve and see what she thinks?" Makoto asked.

"And what _do_ you think?"

"I think you're losing twelve centimeters of hair today," she said. Makoto spun him back around so that he was on eye level with her barely covered chest. "But first thing's first…" 

Her foot pressed down on the lever beneath the chair. Akira's eyes widened as he began to fall backwards. He thought the chair gave out at first, and that the only thing that would stop his descent was the sharp edge of the countertop behind him. He let out a brief yelp right before he stopped falling, his head bumping softly against the plush headrest. And what was Makoto doing? Smiling devilishly down at him, trying and failing to contain her laughter.

"First we have to wash that unruly hair of yours. I have to warn you though, the water may be cold at first. You're not going to _yelp_ or anything like that, are you?" she asked as she gave him a wink.

Sometimes he thought that maybe he rubbed off on her a little _too_ much.

Shower hose in hand, Makoto turned the faucet behind his head. It was, in fact, a bit cold at first. Didn't help that their apartment was a little colder than usual in these chilly winter months. It made goosebumps form on the back of his neck.

But then came the saving grace that was the soothing touch of her fingertips gliding through his wet hair. So warm and loving as she gently combed through his tangled split ends. It'd been a while since she last did this, he'd almost forgotten how god damn heavenly it felt. He could sit here all night if she allowed it. Once he was wet enough, she hung the hose back up and pumped some shampoo into her palm before returning to his head. Scratch all prior comparisons, _this_ was what heaven was like. Goodness…what a difference a little bit of fancy shampoo made.

"How's that? Better?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Hnnng…uh huh..." was his barely coherent response. His cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink while his jaw went slack, his lips parting oh so invitingly. The rest of his body practically melted into the chair. He was quite literally putty in her hands.

Makoto smiled proudly. It was things like this that filled her with the confidence she had accumulated over the years. Just knowing that her touch could have such an effect on him, to know that only _she_ could do this to him...it was empowering _._ And that's not even taking into account how adorable he looked whenever she got the chance to turn the tables on him. She understood perfectly well why teasing her was so much fun to him when they were teenage sweethearts. It was intoxicating to know she was now winning their little game.

So she may as well go all in.

She leaned in further, using the armrest on the other side for support as she hovered over him. He had no choice but to look. She _wanted_ him to look. To watch her breasts as they shook ever so slightly with each push and pull of her other arm, all barely a breath's distance from his face. He could touch them if wanted, he didn't need permission. He was limited only by his own indecisiveness, the conflicting options dueling in his head.

_'Sexy time? Should I enjoy the show? Or join the act? Is this her time? Or my time? …Both?'_

Makoto answered the question for him.

She switched to her knee for support as she brought her dry hand up to his head and around the back of his neck. She pulled him upwards just high enough for her to lean down and plant a kiss on his lips. Their tongues did their little dance, the one that told the other what they wanted without a single verbal confirmation. And all the while, her wet hand did not stop lathering his hair.

His own hands chose different destinations—one finding its way underneath her blouse while the other reached around to her butt. Just one squeeze and he knew: she wasn't wearing _any_ underwear whatsoever. She was planning on this right from the beginning, the smile he felt against his lips confirmed that. Such naughtiness. It was only right that he lifted his palm and gave the girl a deserving spank. She bit his lip in response.

"Ah, ah, ah," she spoke through clenched teeth. "Save that for later~"

She released him and rose back up, turning her attention back to his hair and ignoring the hand fondling her breast as if it weren't even happening. She leaned forward under the pretense of washing him better and in the process gave him better access to the girls, to which he gave _his_ full attention. It didn't take much straining to extend his neck the short distance that kept his mouth from sucking the closest nipple. She inhaled sharply at the sudden sensation, which in turn only pressed her breast more snuggly against his face. Her nipple hardened in his mouth as his tongue danced around it like a bonfire, only touching the tip after each full circle. Ass man though he was, he knew how to press her boob buttons as well.

Makoto flung her head back and gasped as quietly as she could. Thankfully her face was out of his view, though she doubted he required any visual reassurance of the magic he was performing. This...was escalating a lot faster than she predicted. And she was now putty in _his_ hands...erm, mouth.

Him? Winning? After all the work she put into this? That was wholly unacceptable!

Her dry hand, which had come to rest on his shoulder while he partook in her cleavage, traveled back up to his neck and gave him a firm yet gentle squeeze. He stopped sucking, then glanced up at her with wanting eyes. Oh yes, that was something he was _very_ interested in. But alas...

"...Such a shame that it isn't your birthday," she noted with a wry smirk, then released her grip.

But the tease didn't stop there. With a single finger, she traced a line along the ridge of his chin, then down his neck and across his collarbone. She took a slight detour once she reached his chest, giggling as she felt that she wasn't the only one with hard nipples in this bathroom. She then continued down to his stomach, across each little bump of his abs until she reached the end of the journey: his belt buckle.

Could she do it with a single hand? A silly question. After all these years, undoing his trousers was like muscle memory. Akira watched with anticipation as she fumbled his belt open. Her hand disappeared beneath the material, then beneath the elastic of his boxers. His breath grew heavier right as her hand found his erection. A light touch at first, as if greeting a loved one she hadn't seen in a few days. Then she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and gave him a few good squeezes, just to gauge how far along they truly were.

_'Yeah...he can last through that…'_ she thought to herself.

She pulled his entire length out of his underwear, prompting him to raise his hips so she could push his pants down his legs. He now sat naked in the chair, his erection standing proud and unbound as he let her take the wheel. It did belong to her, after all.

She draped her fingers around his shaft, nestling the tip into her palm as she traced gentle lines upwards with her nails. She could only reach about halfway down his length this way, but it was enough for a response. His dick twitched in her palm. He was a little ticklish down there after all—dangerous knowledge she acquired when they were dating but only until recently did she choose _not_ to abuse.

"Heh, that's what you get for spanking me~" she said with a little wiggle of her hips.

He didn't even hesitate to stick his arm out and give her another swift clap to her juicy hind quarters. She yelped at sudden sensation, failing to cover her mouth in time with the hand that had previously been on his member. Looking up at her was the most confident of poker faces.

"You…! _Naughty little…!_ " she growled.

Reaching behind him on the counter, she pulled out a familiar bottle that was hidden behind the shampoo. Familiar how, you ask? Well, it occupied a pretty frequent presence in their bedroom if that's any indication. She pumped a generous amount of lube into her palm, then reached back down between his legs and coated his erection thoroughly. He...he wasn't expecting that. His cocky, upturned lips went loose upon realizing that he was well and truly fucked now. Well, technically not yet, but the game was officially lost. Makoto was now in control.

She stroked him, slow and steady, with the varying tightness she knew he enjoyed. Didn't even have to look him in the eye, she already knew he had that look about him. The kind that begged forgiveness for all recent acts of tomfoolery and just wanted that sweet release from her. She _might_ give it to him, but only if he stays such a good boy.

The bathroom was soon filled with a mixture of sounds: the heavy breathing and occasional moan of her husband, the foamy sloshing of her hand in his hair, and the slick noises of her other hand pumping his erection. That in conjunction with the fact that she had complete and total control over him was a particularly _sexy_ combination to her. They should have tried this much sooner.

By now there was quite a bit of precum escaping his tip, though quickly disappearing beneath her fingers as she added it to the lubrication. Akira's grip on the armrests had tightened, his eyes partially shut as she stroked him. His hips had involuntarily begun to thrust upward into his wife's strong hand. He was close. So, _so_ close. Just a few more pumps and…

She let go.

His eyes snapped open, confused but eagerly prepared to beg for it. "Honey, plea-"

_Fwoooooooosssshh!_

He nearly came just from the shock of cold water washing over his scalp. Makoto's breasts were once again in his face, though this time more modestly as she returned to giving his hair her undivided attention. She rinsed his hair, a soft and spectacularly nonchalant hum coming from her closed lips. Once all the shampoo had left his hair, she sorted through the bottles on the counter yet again, as if searching for something that wasn't there.

"Conditioner...conditioner...I could have sworn I just bought some. Maybe I left it in the bag? I'll be right back," she said before promptly leaving the room.

Akira stared blankly at the door as he now sat alone in the bathroom—hair still wet, pants still pulled down, erection _still_ standing straight up. Oh...oh, she was _evil…_ Just completely, utterly, totally, absolutely, two hundred percent _EVIL!_

_'God, I fucking love her…'_ he thought.

It wasn't too long of a wait until he heard approaching footsteps in the hallway. He thought he was mentally and physically prepared for the teasing of a lifetime. 

He wasn't even half right.

Makoto entered the bathroom with a single bottle of conditioner... _and nothing else._ Head to toe, she was completely naked.

"Don't worry, I found the conditioner," she said, ignoring the other obvious revelation. "Now, let's get you taken care of~"

"Please do~" he cooed. For the first time tonight, they had the same thing in mind.

She approached the chair, this time from the front, crawling over him until her knees were on either side of his hips. Setting the conditioner down on the counter, she pumped a few squirts into her hands and rubbed them together.

"...I think you'll like this brand. It goes in nice and smooth when you're soaking wet~" she whispered into his ear.

She rubbed it into his hair with both hands while he lined up his erection with her entrance as she lowered herself onto him. She was right, it _did_ go in nice and smooth. And she was most certainly loving his "brand."

Makoto sank down further and further until her cheeks were reunited with his lap, his entire hardened length fit snugly within her. They both moaned in satisfaction. Even after all these years, moments of intimacy such as this were as blissful as the first. Their desire for each other could never truly be sated, their thirst never quenched indefinitely. But tonight, they can and _will_ get their fill.

She pushed her fingers deeper within his hair, kissing him deeply while she rocked her hips. Akira held firm to her sides, aiding her movements with each rise and fall along his length. The shirt he was wearing, sandwiched betwixt their bodies, rose up higher and higher with each upward drag of her breasts against his chest. Eventually, the sweaty pride and joy of both their bodies, their abs, came together.

His hands slid further down her hips until they came to rest on her firm, yet soft and juicy backside. They were home, on her ass where they belong. He gave both cheeks a healthy squeeze, prompting her to break the kiss and lean in further towards his ear.

"...Do it again~" she moaned.

He raised one arm, then brought it back down to her cheek with a much louder sound than before. _Clap!_ She bit into his shoulder to muffle her squeals.

"...Again…" she mewled.

He raised the other arm, then spanked her even harder on the opposite cheek. _Clap!_ Her breathing was growing more and more erratic, her motions getting faster and faster. She stopped aimlessly washing his hair and wrapped her arms around his neck for better support.

"AGAIN!" she told him, teetering over the edge.

_CLAP!_

Makoto's body began to jolt in his arms. Her back arched as she ground her hips into him, her head falling upon his shoulder while her orgasm consumed her. That was it for him, the floodgates were open. Akira thrusted in as deeply as he could and rode that wave with her as he came inside in multiple bursts.

_He_ had won. She let him win, though really, there were no losers sitting in this chair. Limp and quite likely unconscious now, but no losers.

They sat there, connected, content and utterly spent. Akira was beginning to think Makoto had fallen asleep right there, but then he felt a hand lazily reach up and comb through his now damp hair.

"You know…" she spoke, exhausted. "I think we can put off that haircut for another week. Don't you?" 

They both laughed as he pulled her in for another kiss.

Next Sunday it is then.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2 year anniversary of my AO3 account!🎉🎉 Last year I wrote a smut as well so why not do it again lol. This time I tried to imagine how much their personalities rub off on one another when they're in their mid-late 20s and still don't have kids. Also there's something oddly intimate about someone else washing your hair. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day I guess.💕


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